Nightingale in the Dark
by Late Owl Rambles
Summary: R&J: "With a heave he pulled himself upwards and swung one leg over to straddle the railing. His cheeks were vaguely rosy due to the exertion and the cold, and his eyes sparkled with something she could not fully recognise, but still sent a shiver through her entire body and had her heart pounding against her chest." A somewhat different take on a classical tale. Somewhat.
1. An admittedly mad suggestion

**Well, this is exciting. First story ever, woohoo!**

**Anyway.**

**If I could write dialogue in Elizabethan English then I would, but I can't and I'm not interested in being prosecuted for "abuse of language" and "sullying of England's greatest playwright", so I shan't.**

**My most heartfelt thanks to Indigo-Night-Wisp for being such a lovely Beta and sounding board.**

**I also won't make any disclaimers. I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not Shakespeare :P**

* * *

The sky was clear of clouds and of light blue colour, with the sun standing high upon it. Absently, at the back of his mind, Benvolio wondered if the birds were singing today. Seldom did they bother to stay and rest near the core of the town, much preferring the market place or the gardens. In any case, even if they were he wouldn't be aware of it – the only thing he heard was the sound of quarrel scattered across the centre of Verona. Something had without any doubt been said, he was unknowing by whom and how and, frankly, he didn't care much either. The only thing important was that dozens of Montague swords clanged against those of Capulet. All sense had been abandoned yet again.

Stepping out with raised arms in order to catch even the smallest of attention, he contemplated drawing his own sword and going between, if the fray dragged on.

"Everyone, please!" he exclaimed. "Stop this madness!"

A scornful laugh followed, resembling a dull rumble, reaching his ears from behind him. Feeling his body stiffen he took a sharp breath before turning, for Benvolio knew that voice. And it was hardly the attention he would have liked.

"Tybalt."

The older male straightened up and took a few steps from the wall he had previously leaned against. With leisurely but heavy strides and a hand casually resting against the hilt of his sword he scrutinized him with a piercingly dark gaze that Benvolio forced himself to meet. Raising his head and relaxing his shoulders the young Montague gave the air of perfect composure, but the beads of sweat that flowed down his neck and throat betrayed him. Meeting Tybalt, on the warpath or not, could be a thrill and good fun when with Mercutio and sometimes even Romeo, but alone it was a nightmare and often akin to meeting death eye to eye.

"Madness..." Tybalt mused and nodded slowly, "…is a fitting word."

Allowing himself a small gulp Benvolio motioned with a fully extended arm to the combating masses.

"So help me cease this! And unhand your sword," he added, the last part more of a pleading rather than a command, much to his dismay. Tybalt snorted and let a smile, completely devoid of mirth, spread across his face.

"_Cease_. What man are you to speak this way?" he spat before drawing his sword. Benvolio did the same, but even though he prepared himself for combat he was too late to avoid and barely had the time to block Tybalt's blade with his own. Benvolio immediately understood why Mercutio never cared to deflect and instead almost always opted to dodge during his and Tybalt's many disputes. The force of the single strike was enough to send a jolt through Benvolio's body and he had to dig his heels into the ground in order not to fall down.

"Tybalt!" he hissed behind gritted teeth. "I do not wish to fight you!"

"Then you should have cleared off the battlefield," came the matter-of-factly reply. Taking a small step back he was quick to strike once again, but this time Benvolio followed his friend's example and simply stepped out of the way instead of meeting the clash, or give in return. Unfortunately Tybalt was not as sluggish as his size should have made him and again and again Benvolio found his routes of escape to be cut off. Not only was he quick, but dexterous as well, and the fluid, graceful even, movements made the confrontation appear almost like dancing. However the illusion was ruined by the rawness, the ferocity intermingling with the display. These thrusts – unlike the playfully lightsome ones Benvolio was accustomed to – were meant to kill.

Cornered at last, Benvolio once again raised his sword when Tybalt sprung forward, praying it would not shatter. But the impact never came.

Gaping in surprise at the third blade keeping theirs apart Benvolio turned his attention to its owner and let out a sharp gasp.

"Prince Escalus! My Lord..." he managed to utter before falling down on one knee with Tybalt shortly following suit. The prince's stare was hard upon them as he sheathed his sword and walked past them to mountain the large fountain in the very middle of the plaza. Momentarily surveying the crowd, he then emitted a bellow loud enough to catch even the oldest and most worn ears.

"**Citizens!**"

The clangs of the metal, the random screams instantly stopped as all fighters and onlookers turned to the prince and, in an almost ironic harmony, kneeled down before him.

"Many times you have turned weapons against each other in these streets, and many times have I had to come between! How much blood must flow before your resentment will be quenched?"

No one in the surrounding masses dared answer. The silence was respected by even the wind and the birds. The prince sighed in calm frustration.

"Tybalt, Benvolio. Relay this message to your elders," he called out. Benvolio cautiously raised his head and braced himself for whatever punishment his carelessness would cause his uncle. If Tybalt had similar fears he didn't let them show, merely staring blankly at the prince.

"Let Montague and Capulet know that the peace never again will be disturbed. My patience has thinned – from this time forth initiating a riot like this will be a certain sentence of death. This is the last warning! Now, return home all of you."

Stepping down, the prince and his entourage left as swiftly as they had arrived, and slowly even the last order was followed by the retreating citizens. Providing him one last murderous glare Tybalt too turned and left. With the shivers still lingering down his spine, Benvolio hurried home. His uncle paced when he reported the brawl and the prince's proclamation.

"Good," he mumbled, coming to a halt as Benvolio finished. "Good... with such direct orders neither we nor the Capulet will dare cause uproar again. Perhaps the peace will be kept this time."

"And if not, _we_ will not be the ones to disturb it!" the lady spoke up. "After all, the Capulets were the ones to start today – were they not, Benvolio?"

Benvolio hesitated. "I do not know how the bout itself begun, but Tybalt was the one to first draw his sword against me."

Lady Montague frowned and shook her head.

"As was my suspicion. That bastard will without any doubt be the first to suffer the new law. You and Romeo are too well-brought-up to have us worried."

"Speaking of which," Montague suddenly said, pausing only to cough into his hand,"where _is_ my son?"

"I last saw him two hours ago," Benvolio informed him. "Before the fight. It was clear he was not in the mood for talking, so I decided to leave him be. Shall I go find him?"

Barely twenty minutes after the offer had been made – and accepted – Benvolio located his cousin strolling down the alleyways of Verona with a vacant look on his face, not even noticing his friend joining him.

"Deep in thought I see," he loudly commented, and smiled despite himself when Romeo gave a jump in surprise.

"Benvolio!" he exclaimed. "I did not hear you come…"

"I noticed. Your parents wonder of your whereabouts. And uncle would like to know why you have been so distracted lately."

"I have?"

Benvolio nodded. "You have," he confirmed. "And I promised them I wouldn't stop bothering you until you told me what occupies your thoughts."

Romeo looked dumbfounded for a moment, before donning an exceedingly amused smile.

"Oh dear cousin," he laughed and grabbed Benvolio by his shoulders. "Thank you for your concern, but you needn't worry."

"No?" Benvolio asked as Romeo put an arm around him and steered him to start walking down the lane once more.

"No," Romeo assured him. "What causes my daydreaming is something beautiful! Something rough yet gentle! It is a bright obscurity that has the inferno freeze, the night burn, life itself weeps in its tragedy! It brings me pain but it also guides me forward to-"

"You're in love again, right?" Benvolio cut him off. Romeo chuckled and rubbed his neck in a sheepish manner.

"Is it so obvious?" he asked.

"Only when you speak."

"So much too often then!"

Coming to a halt, both boys simultaneously tipped their heads backwards, for the comment had unquestionably come from above. Sitting perched on a stone wall just a few metres away he peered down on them with a characteristically cheeky grin.

"Mercutio!" Romeo called out with good cheer. The last of the triumvirate let out a chuckle before nimbly leaping off the mure and landing before them rather gracefully. His normally unruly thatch of hair looked even more dishevelled than usual and his eyes gave the impression of being all the more blue due to the glint of excitement in them. No more than a glance was needed for Benvolio to tell what the ensuing questions would be.

"What happened? _How was it?_"

"Ephemeral," Benvolio replied, but did not add the "fortunately" out loud, as he knew the other wouldn't agree. Mercutio loved a good match more than was healthy.

"What was?" Romeo asked.

"Our dear friends the Capulets challenged us today in the plaza," Mercutio revealed without dropping the gaze firmly fixated on Benvolio, undoubtedly inquiring for further details.

"A fray?" Romeo exclaimed and too turned to stare.

"It lasted less than the quarter-hour, and no one was gravely hurt." Benvolio noticed his voice had taken on a vaguely defensive tone, and he was fidgeting where he stood. "The prince was quick to end it. He also declared that whoever disrupts the peace again will be sentenced to death."

With a disgruntled groan Mercutio tossed his head back.

"But _of course_ he did! And how come, while we're on the subject," he added, glancing at Romeo, "you had not yet heard of it?"

A pale pink tint appeared on Romeo's face, together with a bashful grin.

"I, uh, I had a few things on my mind…"

"Oh, yes. That woman," Mercutio said with a deadpan expression, not even trying to conceal the dryness that coated his tone. "So, who is this creature of immortal beauty? This spirit of fire, this fair dove of immaculate ivory, this bejewelled-"

"I have never called her that!"

"Then you will – at one point or another. Who is she?"

"I _don't _know…" Romeo sighed and stared out into thin air amorously.

Dead silence – then Mercutio abruptly turned around and marched away from them with rapid strides. Benvolio had to grab Romeo by the arm and hurriedly drag him along in order to keep up the pace, for Mercutio's gait was brisker than even their sprint.

"You don't know…" Benvolio could hear him grumble. "How can you claim to love a woman if you can't even tell _who she is?_"

"I have not yet spoken to her!" Romeo replied breathlessly. "Only watched her from afar! I know neither her name nor her father. Only the certainty of her radiance that have even the moon be filled with envy!"

"Mercutio, did you merely seek us out to get word of the brawl?" Benvolio interrupted his cousin's blathering, noticing the beginning of the deterioration of Mercutio's temper. Evidently, his efforts proved successful, as Mercutio instantly stopped in his tracks and spun around. The gleam in his eyes had returned.

"That's right! Have you heard what's happening tonight?" he exclaimed and did not wait for their answer. "Old man Capulet is throwing a feast, and we. Are. Going!"

"Capulet?" Benvolio repeated, a frown of hesitance upon his face. "But as Montagues surely we cannot be invited."

"True," Mercutio agreed. "But _I_ am invited, and I in turn invite you to join me."

Benvolio emitted a deep breath that sounded much like a strange combination of a sigh and a groan at once, all while vehemently shaking his head. He had had enough of Capulets for weeks ahead.

"No," he asserted himself. "No, no, no, _definitely_ not! It is the worst idea you have had in ages and we will most certainly not–"

"Let's do it!"

Quietening as he looked up, Benvolio could see in the corner of his eye that also Mercutio had turned to their friend in disbelief at his, not just approval, but _eagerly_ sounding such. Romeo's eyes darted between them, his face still serious.

"Do not act like have never agreed upon an admittedly mad suggestion before! Why should we not?"

"You scarcely said it yourself: it is _mad!_"

"Enjoyably mad I'll say," Romeo countered with a ridiculous grin. Mercutio laughed in triumph as he slung his arm around the formers shoulders and begun walking yet again. Benvolio eyed their increasingly retreating backs thoughtfully. He did not have to come, had no obligation to follow. He could let them have their way. Attend, be discovered, cause distress. It would be simpler than to monitor them both an entire evening. Immeasurably simpler in fact. But, alas.

Mentally slapping himself he hurried up next to his friends, his stupid, senseless friends.

_Damn them. Damn them both to hell._

* * *

Escalus slumped into his chair. Leaning back he raised his hands to tenderly massage his temples and allowed himself an exhausted, unremorseful groan.

"Those people will be the death of me someday."

"Not if they kill each other first." A short contemplative thought. "Maybe you should not have stopped them after all. Then you would be rid of them now."

Escalus extended his neck to view Gonzaga's playfully wicked grin. Este rolled his eyes at the comment and Viscont gave him a reprimanding glare.

"Duilio! You must end these tasteless quips! It is nothing to joke about!"

Lying back, Escalus shut his eyes and fought the chuckle threatening to escape from his throat. Gonzaga laughed.

* * *

**See? I don't know what it was, but it certainly wasn't Shakespeare.**

**Not enough dirty jokes :|**


	2. Embodiment of sophistication

**Chapter 2: Enter Juliet**

**No, not like ****_that._**** Get your mind out of the gutter!**

**Not yet anyway :P Maybe later, if you like citrus with a hint of awkward.**

* * *

Juliet could feel her innards breaking within her. In any case, she thought they did. She couldn't imagine any other explanation for the agonising throbbing and severe lack of oxygen. The old maid, Giovanna, was lacing the corset too tight again. Were her eyes truly so old they could not see the girdle cut into her flesh? Or did mother explicitly order the woman to it? Either one was equally probable.

"You will look so beautiful tonight!" Lady Capulet cooed as she laid out ribbons and necklaces and other sorts of jewellery over by the vanity. "Everyone's eyes will be on you."

Juliet wheezed quietly in response.

"And the dress!" she burst out, seizing the garment off the bed. "Your father is so kind to purchase such a beautiful piece for you."

"…yes …madam," Juliet managed to utter this time between clenched jaws. How was she supposed to breathe like this? It would surely be a good laugh for the guests when she suddenly collapsed on the dance floor. Provided she lasted long enough for them to arrive of course.

"And Count Paris will be there!" she chattered on, either not aware of her only daughter's suffering or simply ignoring it. "You must promise me to be on your best behaviour tonight!"

"Yes, madam."

"Watch him, dance with him! You will find much pleasure in his features, I'm certain."

"Yes, madam."

A light knocking was heard, and the chamber door quickly opened and closed.

"Ah, Angelica!" Lady Capulet proclaimed. "How are the arrangements faring downstairs?"

Juliet slowly and with much care, for every movement seemed synonymous with ache right now, twisted her neck to glance backwards at her nurse and friend. Noticing her limited movements, Angelica studied her with a raised brow. Juliet merely grimaced as reply.

"The hall is prepared, as are the decorations," she announced, now looking at the lady. "However there appear to be some problems in the kitchen."

Lady Capulet frowned in discontent, and Angelica casually suggested that the lady and Giovanna went down to inspect before the guests arrived. She could help Juliet with the last preparations. Barely had the door closed a second time before she dashed forward, practically ripping the corset open. Juliet slumped in the woman's arms and inhaled greedily.

"Thanks," she gasped. Angelica chuckled and started re-lacing it again, but with considerably softer hands.

"He is a good catch, the count," she said as she begun brushing Juliet's wavy blonde looks. Juliet humphed.

"So you heard."

"As did half of Verona. Your mother is excited today."

Nodding, Juliet picked up her gown like mother had done before. The velvety fabric was of a rich red colour, and soft beneath her fingers. It _was_ a beautiful dress.

"I know," she sighed. "In her head we are already married."

"But not in yours?"

"Well… no! I-I have never met him. I have been told that he is of noble birth, wealthy and handsome – supposedly – but that is all."

"And it's true. Especially the last part. Picture yourself an angel descending from the sky to gather old candles from mass and tears of women losing their heads in pleasure for the first time and proceed to make a man out of it. Then you would have the count."

Juliet groaned – loudly – and released herself from Angelica's grip to fall face first onto the bed. Wonderful as Angelica was, her parables could be terrible at times. And it still didn't tell her anything. Surrounded and drowning in sheets and blankets Juliet could hear a deep and tranquil sigh from above, before a soothing weight came to rest on her head.

"Ladybird," Angelica murmured, combing her long fingers through the girl's hairs. "Don't let this weight you down. A wedding isn't planned yet, correct? You don't have to worry. Think of the dance, the food and all the fun we'll have tonight."

Juliet felt herself relax beneath the tender movement and from the fresh warmth radiating from her bedspread to her cheeks. It was true. She shouldn't worry until it was actually necessary.

"And see it from the bright side," Angelica continued with a sly voice that nothing but dared Juliet to raise her head in curiosity. The older woman's grey eyes were alight with a mischievousness that the young Capulet girl had rarely seen in even the cousins and friends of the same age as herself. But then again, she also rarely favoured her cousins above Angelica.

Grinning friskily she leaned down so close their noses almost met. "Play your cards cleverly and poison the right people and you might even become the royal consort of Verona!"

"Angelica!" Juliet protested in a half-gasp, half-laugh. "Someone could hear you!"

Angelica chuckled good-humouredly and kissed Juliet's forehead with the latter soon joining the merriment fully in a light fit of giggling; only stopping when Lady Capulet's commands about the ball and how "Everything had to be perfect!" sounded through the building. After quickly sobering up, Angelica gently lifted Juliet's chin with her index finger and smiled.

"Come; let's get you ready – before your mother calls for you."

Despite Angelica's encouraging words Juliet found herself trapped in her own thoughts and uncertainties, none which ceased neither as they were apprehended by a hoard of her female cousins nor whilst they escorted her down to the dance-hall. Absentmindedly she could hear them eagerly gossiping about their expectations for the evening.

"I have heard _he_ will be here tonight!"

"I cannot believe Marcella is not attending."

"She will be so jealous when she hears of all the fun!"

"Oh, I told her to pack my _green_ linen dress, not the yellow one! She never listens!"

"Is it true what we've heard of you and the county, Juliet? Juliet?!"

All she could do in response was to smile and laugh.

Hardly had her father's opening speech ended and the music begun to play before a young gentleman came to ask for a dance. After a subtle glance to the side, Lady Capulet's beam more than confirmed that this indeed was the count. A promise was a promise, so Juliet accepted and then she watched him as intently and thoroughly she could while still remaining proper. He was rather tall – not as tall as Tybalt, although he had to reach down to simply rest his chin on her head so maybe it wasn't the best comparison – with brown eyes and hair neatly combed. Muscled but not burly. Friendly smile and noticeable cheekbones even behind a mask. She understood Angelica's speech a little better now; this could very well be the work of an angel. After two dances in a row and the fourth with him overall, Juliet courteously excused herself before dashing away and slaloming through the crowd to the nearest table with refreshments. She had barely raised a bruschetta to her mouth before feeling an unmerciful tug at her hair, and let a yelp of pain escape her lips.

"That's not very ladylike."

Grumbling and scowling she turned to meet the perpetrator and found Tybalt smugly, as well as literally, looking down at her. _Not ladylike?_

"Yes, for pulling someone's hair is extremely gentlemanly," she scoffed. "Truly, you are the embodiment of sophistication!"

In response, he only chuckled whilst gently patting her head.

"You look comely tonight," he told her. What little annoyance she felt instantly washed away. As always it was impossible to stay mad at him for long. At least for her it was.

"Thank you," she smiled. Tybalt shrugged dismissively and reached for a pitcher with wine and two cups.

"It wasn't a compliment, it was a fact. You have drawn looks of envy and admiration the entire evening," he replied and handed her one of the goblets. "The count certainly agrees."

Right. Count Paris.

Juliet made a face and quickly took a mouthful that pleasantly burned her throat with its sweetly spiced flavour. Tybalt raised a brow before calmly taking a sip himself. "I take it you don't like him, then?"

"No, that's not it," she quickly assured him, for she didn't at all _dislike_ count Paris. "He is very handsome."

"But…?"

Juliet sighed and shook her head.

"I don't know," she admitted. "He's so old."

Giving forth a mixture of a humourless laugh and a snort, her cousin downed the remainder of his wine and reached for the jug again.

"He can't be more than five-and-twenty at most," he told her.

"That's still four years more than you yourself," she pointed out. "What would you say if mother presented you a ten-year-old and told you she was your bride-to-be?"

Tybalt halted his motion as he was about to drink, and gave her a long, contemplative look. Then he turned to the dance floor and she followed his gaze to the men and women, with their swirling movements and flowing gowns. None of them noticed the two youths who right now could be both anyone, and everyone, staring at them.

"It's not the same thing," he at last muttered.

Juliet bit her lip and held her tongue. She didn't see much difference, but then again, he was older and knew more than she did. Still, it didn't exactly change things at the moment.

"I don't think I'm properly prepared for marriage yet," she whispered so low she barely heard it herself. Pushing aside the budding misery she tore her eyes from the assembly of dancing couples and instead started to search the crowd for Paris. It had been more than ten minutes since she left him and he was bound to soon come and request another dance. Seemingly reading her mind, or perhaps simply noticing her distress, Tybalt suddenly seized her hand and bowed as deeply as he possibly could.

"May I have the honour?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right, unintentionally making the umber curtains that normally framed his face shift and fall into his eyes. Accompanied by an amiable smile and a glow in his gaze that made him look almost boyish, Juliet questioned herself how on earth he wasn't married already. Luck on her side though, for what would she do without him around?

Breathing in relief she too smiled and nodded excitedly. "Yes!"

* * *

From blocks away music accentuated by Mercutio's crooning as he bounced his way forth down the alley indicated that the feast had not only begun, but was flourishing. Walking alongside him Benvolio frequently shook his head in something akin to defeat whilst, occasionally, sending Romeo a glance asking "Are we truly certain he is the older one?", to which Romeo answered with a chuckle or a shrug – or both – and the other rolled his eyes before going back to tiredly shake his head. Under normal circumstances Romeo would agree with his cousin that this was a much more reasonable pace, but tonight was different and he would actually rather have joined Mercutio and danced his way to this event they were so foolishly attending. What he had told his friends earlier was a lie. He did know who his beloved lady was. Not her name, nor her father's name, but when he first spotted her it had been in the Capulet garden, and that was enough. Fortunately Mercutio had been too excited and Benvolio too concerned to question him any further, however the guilt from deceiving them still pricked his heart. No matter. He would come clean and make it up to them later, after he had beheld her again at a closer distance. Maybe he even would have the luck of learning her name!

Laughter along with chattering now joined the resounding melodies when Mercutio suddenly stopped dead and turned around.

"Gentlemen," he said, somehow concurrently sounding solemn and frivolous. "Shall we attempt slipping by the guards through nearest window or be so audacious as to walk right past them?"

"Choosing the entranceway is the least suspicious," Benvolio pointed out, already donning his plain black and blue mask. "We are least likely to be caught doing so."

Romeo nodded in agreement as he strapped on his own mask – similarly blue but lighter, and with glistening silver patterns spreading across the bridge and forehead.

"Then so be it," Mercutio said and did the same. His mask was deep purple, embellished with gold and pearls, feathers and ribbons. Upon anyone else (as well as on its own) it would look positively ridiculous, but not on Mercutio. He looked vibrant and dashing with the glowing bright blue eyes and wild red hair, in addition to vaguely enigmatical thanks to his tall stature and, seemingly, never-ceasing smile. "Onwards!" he shouted, linking arms with the two Montagues and marched forward.

Barely were they inside before he rapidly vanished after a spirited comment regarding "trembling limbs beneath loose gowns". Far away, Benvolio's laments over negligence and thoughtless schemes and probably many 'wherefores' could be heard but Romeo did not take great notice, for he too had departed. In front of them, not ten metres away, was she – dancing, _soaring._ The brilliant luminance she emanated made her a shimmering spirit in complete darkness, the only light in the world. Without her there existed no colours, no scents, no sound, time or life.

Although her face was veiled in an ivory mask adorned by gilded linings and rich jewels he knew it was her. He recognised the vivid beam, the golden tresses falling down her back and graceful footfalls that had her red velvet skirt whirling around her ankles.

She was his cherished. She was his Capulet girl.

* * *

**The plot thickens. Insert gasp here.**

**Apropos of nothing, I've recently learned there are cigar brands named after ****_Romeo and Juliet_**** AND ****_The Count of Monte Cristo_****. Apparently entitling cigars after great literature is a thing. Who'd have thunk?**

**Review if you like, even if it is just to chew me out for how utterly inane you think the whole thing is.**


	3. A fine taste for antipastos

**Chapter 3: Romeo can be so dense sometimes**

**But it's not his fault. Love does that to you. Or at least I imagine it does.**

**I should be writing a paper about existentialism right now by the way :|**

* * *

Romeo knew his stare was not very inconspicuous however he was hardly the only to gawk. Around her and her partner people dispersed, taking great care to keep out of their way whilst sending looks of awe towards them. She truly excelled. The lustre of her smile blinded every other woman in sight, and the only misery was it was not intended for Romeo. He had to dance with her, had to!

When the dance ended the audience scarcely had the time to thank the musicians before another song began playing. Hurriedly Romeo made his way to the couple and bowed.

"My lady," he smilingly looked up at her and extended his hand. Giggling behind the cover of her hand she studied him before turning to her cavalier.

"Do you mind?" she asked him. Tearing his eyes away from her, Romeo realised with whom she was dancing.

Tybalt's normally sinister stare had narrowed in a doubly threatening manner. Romeo forced his smile to stay put but inside he was whimpering in terror. How senseless of him, to overlook the man when he was right there in front of him! And why were they dancing? Why did she ask his permission? It could not… _she_ could not be _his_ fiancée, could she?

Romeo felt a lump in his throat, a harrowing ache in his stomach, worse than Tybalt's menacing glower and even worse than Benvolio's tired sigh and disappointed look every time he and Mercutio behaved like dullards. No. No, she was too young to be his lady. And the way she behaved, although her words chimed when she addressed him, there were no passion in any of it. Certainly, they were simply acquaintances.

Reassuring as this was, the new spark of anxious hope did do little to calm the swelling panic that Tybalt's paralyzing look begot. In the distance, melodies of laughter and instruments drifted around, but all of it was drowned out by the hammering of Romeo's own pulsating heart. The girl, still looking at her companion, puckered her brow without losing an ounce of brilliance in her smile.

"Tybalt?"

Seemingly awakening from a slumber, he at long last allowed Romeo a breath of air by looking away. His eyes placid and his voice mellow – surprising Romeo with the sudden shift of demeanour – he softly stroked a strand of gold behind the young lady's ear.

"Why would I?"

And then he consigned her white, slender hand and departed before Romeo could make sense of his words. Had he not recognised him? Impossible! Tybalt abhorred Montagues more than anything else, and Romeo eluding him was simply not viable. However… he abhorred Montagues more than anything. He would never entrust one of them, especially not Romeo, with a woman he obviously held so dear.

Returning the girl's beam with one just as strong, he encircled her waist and began the escort through the song.

* * *

You could say many things about the Capulets, but they did have a fine taste for antipastos. With jaded thoughts Benvolio savoured the fruitiness of the alcohol before gulping it down. Accustomed as he might be to being left behind by his friends at moments like this it did not mean that he was not annoyed. Annoyed with them for leaving (and possibly also for finding others' company more fulfilling than his) and with himself for ever expecting anything else.

He should have stayed home. He truly should have. He would like to see them escape their troubles without him to aid. It would be impossible, certainly. Which, of course, was the exact reason it would never happen.

"Uncle, may I speak with you?"

Benvolio almost choked on the wine he was drinking. Covering his mouth in a frantic attempt to stifle the noise, he tried to regain his breath between the coughing and still keep as quiet as possible in order to not draw attention to himself. He did not have to turn and look, sound alone was enough.

"What now my boy?" Lord Capulet asked his nephew and popped a few grapes into his mouth.

"I believe we have attracted unwanted visitors," Tybalt said, barely preventing the growl from entering his tone. Capulet hesitated.

"Unwanted…?" he asked slowly.

"A young man, probably not alone."

"Oh, well," Capulet said, obviously smiling and not very distraught. "Let us hope he and his friends are enjoying themselves tonight then."

"Uncle-"

"I appreciate your concern, Tybalt, but one or two more boys among the masses will be no hazard. You must understand that as a noble man and host you must show tolerance and good will. One day you too-"

"It's a Montague," Tybalt interrupted bluntly.

Silence.

Benvolio felt a chill down his spine. Here he thought he had been reckless, but apparently Romeo had beaten him to it. Mercutio causing disruption was more or less anticipated, but he at least held the vindication of actually being invited. Him and his cousin however…

"Montague." Capulet sounded strained. "How come you told me then? Though I am grateful for your calm, I would have anticipated his slain body by now."

Tybalt heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Juliet was standing right by my side."

In the corner of his eye Benvolio saw Capulet starting to look around the hall, before leaning in towards his kinsman and speaking with a hushed voice.

"If you get hold of them, bring them outside. I will _not_ let blood be shed in my own house!"

Tybalt momentarily watched the lord with a regard somehow both intense and eerily empty, afterwards nodding respectfully and departing.

Benvolio felt a sudden, nauseating dizziness overcome him. He had – inadvertently – neglected to breathe during the entire conversation. Scampering off and keeping away from every visible Capulet in the room, he had his eyes searching the area, but naturally both his friends appeared to have spontaneously dematerialised.

With a grunt he determinedly increased his gait into a dash. He _would_ find them before Tybalt did and then there would be no more quests of idiocy until the trees had forsaken their greenery twice over!

* * *

"You'll have to excuse me for stealing you away from your partner. You appeared very delighted with him, but I could not help myself," Romeo expressed his not completely honest regret. Somehow the lightness of her steps affected him as well, for they flew as they danced. The world rested below them, entrapped and unable to interfere.

"Oh, he's not my partner!" she said with a heavenly giggle, unknowingly raising him further to the skies. "Not in any sense other than dance, in any case. I admire him greatly, but he is the equal of a brother and nothing else."

A gleam of coquettishness emerged on her features. "And how come you 'steal' me to begin with if you feel obligated to apologise afterwards?"

"The answer lies in everyone's heart, as my own," he said, this time more earnestly. "A woman of beauty such as yours must be stolen, for only a clever thief could ever dream to obtain her."

"Only a thief?" her smile had grown, and she looked equally amused as she was flattered. "I have heard courtship be described as a contest and a game, but never a crime. I believe I would rather be won than stolen."

"And I assure I would rather win than take, but some prizes only a few men are able to accomplish."

"Are you then no such man?"

He stopped suddenly, having steered towards an oddly solitary and thenceforth peaceful corner of the room. Clasping her hands within his, he captured her russet eyes as well as he could whilst still in disguise.

"My lady, if you knew of my unworthiness you would turn back and never face me again. For me to caress your hand, to gaze upon you – a luminous seraph emerging from shadow and mist – is an outmost honour that even the slumbering dared not dream of."

A faint blush spread across her cheeks, so striking an image he had to battle his desire to stroke it – not yet. They now stood so close he could view every detail of her skin, her mouth, her lashes, and he could feel her hot breaths reach his face.

"You wrong your own character," she said in a low, almost sensual, voice. Letting her tongue quickly run over her lips, she swallowed, looked down, and then up at him again.

"Who… who are you?"

An excellent question, so brilliant in fact, that Romeo's mind instantly drew a blank. Who was he tonight? As a Montague he was unwelcomed, thus both family name and given name would be insipient to utter. He would need a false name, but which? One whose owner was actually invited, of course, and also who would be willing to help untangle the lie in a less perilous situation, one who would-

"Mercutio," he said. It wasn't too bad, for half a second of consideration.

The Capulet girl cocked her head to the side and stared out into empty space, slowly nodding, tasting the word.

"Mercutio…"

Romeo felt the anguish fill him to the brim. How tormenting it was to hear his love speak another man's – and his best friend, moreover! – name in such a tender manner.

She flinched faintly as she woke up from her daze, and then blushingly sent him a coy smile.

"And my name is Juliet…"

"Juliet…" he repeated with admiration so clear in his words it caused her to redden even more.

It could not be helped. Gently he cupped her chin, tracing her jaw with his thumb, slightly raising her head in the process, and when she did not object he leaned down…

…and was forcefully jerked backwards before their lips could meet.

"_We must leave now!_" Romeo recognized Benvolio's voice. Dots of black and white and other colours he was unable to name at the moment danced before his eyes. The sudden change from shadowy corner to well-lit ball room together with the equally sudden as well as highly unexpected movement had left more than a little confounded.

"Leave? But why?" he whispered while rapidly blinking in an effort to have his sight return. Benvolio held an expression of vexation, apprehension and possibly fear as well. A clear sign something was wrong.

"We have been discovered and I, for one, would prefer to witness the sun rise this dawn!"

"Is something the matter?"

The Capulet girl sounded concerned. Romeo hesitated before giving his cousin a curt nod, then turned to her again.

"A dilemma has indeed arisen, but worry not about us," he reassured her. "I promise we will meet again!"

Hastily he pressing his lips against her hand right before Benvolio grabbed his collar. As he was being pulled further away he kept his eyes steadily linked with hers, alas, soon the crowd made it impossible to keep contact, so instead he turned to by his own admission trail after his friend's zigzags through the guests either dancing or wobbling around on the floor. Romeo guessed the majority of them were delightfully inebriated and thus not very aware of their surroundings.

"Where is Mercutio?" he asked and sidestepped for a man's arm that had spontaneously appeared right in front of his face.

"I don't know; somewhere," Benvolio shouted back over his shoulder from three steps ahead.

The musicians started up again. People from every direction were now moving on unsteady legs. After pressing between a couple who would either remember the night with great shame or not at all, rounding a group of girls engaged in a fit of hysterical giggling and ducking behind a pair of guards the two Montagues ended up in a murky and jarringly silent hallway.

"And you are certain he's not still in there?" Romeo wondered with a flick of his head towards the previous hall.

"One does not overlook Mercutio," Benvolio answered dryly. Romeo chuckled at the undeniable truth in his statement when suddenly he was hushed by his friend.

"Did you hear that?"

Another laugh, but shriller and airier, a woman's he guessed, mixed with heavy breaths. Following the sounds they in next to no time came before the last of their trio, pressing a woman with dark corkscrew curls up against a wall.

Benvolio emitted a sigh – heavily – of which the couple took no notice of. Romeo studied the scenario; the woman's leg encircling Mercutio's waist, his hands on her hips, hers running up and down his back, and their mouths mashed against each other with their tongues visibly twisting, and made a mental note of thanking Benvolio for interrupting him and Juliet earlier.

"Pardon me miss," Benvolio said loudly as he stepped forward and pried the pair apart. "But I will have to borrow this good fellow. Don't bother looking for him; he'll find you."

Mercutio had no time to object before the cousins had each seized one of his arms and departed, leaving the woman in the corridor by herself. He had to wait until the three had gotten outside of Capulet grounds before an explanation was given.

"Oh well," he shrugged unflappably. "It was fun while it lasted."

Benvolio snorted.

"I am glad you think so," he said bitterly. Mercutio grinned and teasingly nudged his side.

"Next time we shall make sure it is _you_ to come between a woman!" he said, laughing vigorously when the flustered protests started pouring from the other. "Well then, friends. The party might be over for us but our lady Aurora is still hours from emerging. So what now?"

"Let us continue to your mansion," Romeo proposed. The grin instantly vanished from Mercutio's face.

"Why not yours?" he asked in a rare instance of absolute sobriety. "It has been significantly too long since I had the honour of speaking with your parents."

"And have aunt and uncle questioning our whereabouts?" Benvolio retorted. "Your father never asks, and when he does he never cares."

Mercutio begun muttering in partial opposition, partial consent and earned some half-hearted reprimands from Benvolio. Romeo however ceased to listen to his friends' bickering, instead drifting away to earlier during the night. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, her voice, oh how could one girl be so flawless? And her name, beautiful Juliet…

A crease of ponder suddenly appeared between his eyes.

Juliet_._

A young girl allowed not only a big Capulet feast, but also on Capulet grounds.

Juliet.

Dancing and laughing with the lord's irascible nephew, whom the elder knew and the younger feared for his temper and skill.

_Juliet…_

And then it dawned on him.

* * *

**Well then. For the official couple's first meeting I took Shakespeare's clever and beautiful sonnet and changed it into a vaguely sexist dialogue about pilfering. I'm so proud of myself.**

******Review if you like, even if it is just to tell how utterly terrible you think the whole thing is.**


	4. Mentions in passing

**Chapter 4: Mercutio is kind of a jerk**

**Though, I guess, for once, he has a reason to be.**

**Speaking of which; I wonder what the penalty for identity theft was during the Renaissance...**

* * *

Was it possible for a human to sprout wings? Juliet was certain she fluttered through the halls, and, judging by the amused though slightly puzzled the looks the servants gave her as she passed, she wasn't the only one.

She shouldn't be feeling like this. Not about a man who she had met but once, and without even a proper view of his face! But it could not be helped. He had been charming and romantic, and that last act of an ardent kiss and enthusiastic promise of additional meetings had successfully imprinted his person in her memory.

Though disappointed in his early departure she had still perennially danced on air since last night. Father had been too satisfied with the success of the party to notice her bliss, and mother was in all likelihood convinced it was the count and not an unknown stranger causing her daughter's brilliant mood. Angelica had appeared leery, but ultimately not bothered by it; instead acting rather entertained as Juliet hovered around and chirped out all sentences whenever she spoke. No, the trouble had been Tybalt. With eyes suspiciously narrowed into slits he had inquired of her in a silent interrogation, cornering her in a feverish alarm and holding her petrified with dread. Her heart's violent throbbing had proved superfluous however; he had refrained from questioning her out loud. A mere comment, seeping tranquil ire, to her father about how "the Montague filth had escaped" was all he presented before disappearing as he usually did during the evenings. That was when the pieces started falling into place. Could Mercutio perhaps be a Montague, or at the very least a Montague sympathiser? It would explain why he and his friend left so suddenly. Oh, how she hoped it was the latter rather than the former. For him to be the son of her father's worst adversary would be terrible!

She stopped right in her tracks. Through the large mullion windows warm, glittering rays leaked in. Right below she could the gardeners slowly but efficiently performed their tasks surrounded by hedges and plants, and if she went closer and thoroughly focused her eyes she would probably be able to spot at least four different kinds of butterflies fluttering in the sea of blossoms. She could already hear the light twittering of the forenoon-birds; larks, she guessed. Sitting down on the window seat she leaned her head against the pane. It was still cool from the night air, and soon her breath painted the clear glass. She wondered where he was right now. She wondered if he had even gone back home last night. According to Angelica boys often stayed up entire nights and didn't return home to sleep until daybreak. Maybe he had found someone whose cousin would not throttle him did he become too intimate.

"Deep in thought I see."

Juliet woke with a start from her thoughts. Angelica was grinning at her in a teasing manner.

"Angelica!" She gave forth a breathy laugh. "I did not hear you come."

"Clearly," she said and shook her head in mock disapproval. "What's the matter? You've been all dreamy since last night!"

She could feel the hotness spreading over her face, the flush must be obvious. Quickly she lowered her head, and then looked away all together, chewing on her lower lip. Should she tell? How much had Angelica's knowing smile already figured out?

"Who is he?" the older woman asked with a hearty chuckle as she fell to her knees and laid her arms and head in Juliet's lap.

That much, apparently.

Juliet opened her mouth to speak but found no words, instead bursting into a fit of maniacal giggling.

Angelica's grins grew even wider. "So he's handsome then?"

"Oh, Angelica, if only you'd seen him!" Juliet gasped between the laughter. "It was like from a dream! A wonderful, wonderful dream!"

"What'd he look like?"

Closing her eyes, she pictured him in front of her again, as she had done more times than she would like to admit during the morning. She had to do his features justice.

"Gorgeous! Tall and strong, with eyes of rich gold, soft dark hair in curls, sweet-tempered smile. His voice was deep, and his touch gentle, and the way he _danced…_"

"Stop it! Stop it now or I will keel over!" Angelica proclaimed, raising her hand to her forehead and striking a ridiculously melodramatic pose.

"It was so romantic!" Juliet sighed whilst leaning back at the window again, staring out at the cloudless sky. "I never even knew such men existed…"

Angelica had slumped against her legs again, and was now leering up at her from the ruffles of her skirt.

"What was his name? He _did_ tell you his name, right?"

Juliet straightened up, leaning forward to grasp her nurse's hands. This would be the first time she said his name out loud since the evening before. Glancing around the hall, making sure no one else was there to listen, she took a deep breath and, unable to stop smiling, said it tenderly, like a loud whisper.

"Mercutio."

A crease instantly appeared between Angelica's eyes.

"Mercutio?" she echoed. "Mercutio…"

"What?" Juliet asked, suddenly worried. "Have you heard it before?"

"I believe…" Angelica said slowly, "that he is a kinsman of the prince. First cousin once removed, if I recall correctly. So, unlike county Paris, he is in the immediate line of the lordship of Verona."

Dizziness descended upon Juliet. To think that she would become acquainted with two men so close to prince in one single night. Angelica humphed, letting her grin gradually take form again.

"My oh my. You have excellent taste milady." She chuckled quietly. "Now you won't even have to poison anyone!"

Blinking, feeling bemused, Juliet looked at her friend confusedly. What was she talking about? Then, she remembered their conversation from not even a day ago, and groaned tiredly.

"Now you are sounding more like mother than ever!" she complained. "You speak as if we are already married."

Angelica leaned her head to the side, let her smile turn exaggeratingly coy, and fluttered her eyelashes.

"In _my_ head you are."

Juliet tried to glare, but to no avail, and soon they were both giggling hysterically again. However they were soon interrupted by a young maid nervously approaching them. She was fidgeting, and a deep red shrouded her face.

"I-I'm sorry, madam," she said with a feeble voice. "But there, there is a-a young man, asking for you…"

First, her face became hot, and probably twice as red as the girls. Then, her whole body became icy cold. _What_ was he thinking – if it even was him – coming _here_, and _like this_? Her body had started to tingle when Angelica commenced pulling her down to the ground floor, which was lucky for her knees trembled so much it was highly unlikely she could have walked all by herself.

"I will keep them away," she could hear her say, "but hurry. Lord or not, this is very improper!"

By now her hands had turned awfully clammy. Juliet quickly wiped them of on her skirt, hoping it would not show on the fabric, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the terrace.

Indeed, there was a man out there, waiting with his back against her and looking out over the garden. With a welcoming smile she made herself ready to greet him, but then he turned around and she froze in shock.

"My lady!" he said, wearing a large, gallant smile, and before she could react he had seized her hand and boldly kissed it. "Such a pleasure seeing you!"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, finally finding her manners again. "Yes, it truly is."

_I don't know who this man is_.

"You do remember me, right? Last night, the feast? It would break my heart had you forgotten…"

"Oh no, of course I remember," she lied, forcing herself to return his smile.

"How delightful. Well then; shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm and gesturing out towards the yard. She hesitated for a moment, but in the end nodded and allowed him to lead her down the steps.

It was alright, she told herself. As long as they did not leave the estate grounds she was safe. Even beyond the gate he would not be able to harm her, really. She would merely have to scream and Angelica, Tybalt, father and a handful of servants would appear in the blink of an eye. Knowing that, she noticed her initial worry instead turn to curiosity. Just who _was_ this man?

Glancing upwards from the corner of her eye, she studied him carefully. No, it was most definitely not Mercutio. He was too tall, his hair was red and not brown, those eyes sly and not kind, and that smile too devious beneath the courteousness. Everything about him was different, even the way he carried himself.

They moved swiftly, soon arriving in a small grove of beeches. When certain no one would be able to view them from the house, she detached herself from him and took a few steps away while eyeing him suspiciously.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Hm. I assume you do not remember me after all," he said dryly. "I am wounded."

"_Who are you?_" she repeated, a growl developing in the back of her throat.

Without speaking he examined her, his eyes sweeping past her in a way that made her feel indecent. Her face became hotter and hotter, but somehow it was impossible to find the words and tell him to stop. At last, after what felt like an eternity, he was done and answered her.

"I am Mercutio," he said, to which she shook her head violently.

"No you're not. You can't be! Not the Mercutio I seek."

He smirked, unpitying. There was something cruel in his eyes.

"My dear, there is only one Mercutio, and he stands before you. The moron you think of is called something very different."

"Then why-"

"Because your beau is an imbecile, that's why," he muttered and slouched against one of the trunks.

The next moments were nebulous. He told her about the party last night, and sneaking in, and having to run afterwards, and Romeo, Romeo of the Montagues, with curly hair and golden eyes and "less sense than was necessary for a man to survive". Juliet was beginning to feel dizzy again. Mercutio was still explaining something, she wasn't sure what – her attention had faded after the mention of his name.

"I wish to meet him again; is that possible?" she cut him off.

He quietened, his jaw slightly tightening. She guessed he didn't like her interrupting, but she honestly could not care less and only glared back at him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Name the time and place and he'll be there," he said.

Dropping her gaze she started chewing her lower lip.

"Father dislikes me leaving these grounds."

"That's no issue," he said with a snort. "Trust me."

"Then… tonight?"

"Sure. By the terrace?"

"No, no, too public," she overruled. "But there is a large balcony at the east side. My room is connected to it. Tell him to come and wait there after ten o'clock tonight."

Mercutio smirked, obviously humoured by the ordeal, and bowed, somehow managing to make the act appear derisive. "As you wish, milady."

Juliet observed him briefly, and suddenly realised Angelica was not the only one to have heard his name prior to this.

"I think my cousin might have told me of you," she said. Instantly he looked up, his eyes on fire.

"Has the kitty spoken of me?" he said, suddenly gleeful. "Do tell what he has said!"

"Oh, only mentions in passing," she said fleetingly and started to make her way back to the mansion. "Mostly calling you things."

"Such as…?"

"I believe the most common one is 'that pathetic halfwit with the ridiculous hair'."

She couldn't help but smile when in the corner of her eye she saw him frown and once more run a hand through the bright tresses, before following in her wake.

* * *

It took too long until ten o'clock. Why did hours pass so leisurely?

As soon as the bell struck enough chimes she took a shawl to cover her shoulders and went to spy out over the orchard. Luckily, she did not have to look for long.

"Juliet!"

Exactly as they had agreed on he stood beneath the balcony, adoration written plainly upon his features. She imagined his gold eyes glistening in the darkness.

"Good evening, _Romeo_," she said, her tone sugary-sweet, putting just enough emphasis on his name to have him visibly squirm.

"Juliet, I–"

"– better have many more pretty words in store, for you will need them," she completed his sentence.

"Please, you must forgive me…"

"Yes, yes," she said brusquely. "We will see about that. Now, come up here before any of my kinsmen spots you. They would have your neck!"

Sparing her a resolute nod he began climbing the trellis adorned with vines and blooms against the house wall. Restlessly she awaited him while throwing glances around the yard, praying the trellis would hold his weight, and that no guard would suddenly appear.

With a heave he pulled himself upwards and swung one leg over to straddle the railing. His cheeks were vaguely rosy due to the exertion and the cold, and his eyes sparkled with something she could not fully recognise, but still sent a shiver through her entire body and had her heart pounding against her chest.

"A neck is a nominal price if it gives me your smile."

Juliet felt the heat reach her cheeks, her entire face, and she averted her gaze while biting down on her lip. She had wanted to stay at least a little bit cross at him for at least a short while more, but evidently that would not be possible. She cleared her throat.

"I could never smile had you been hurt…" she mumbled.

"Then I never will!" he countered, gripping her hands with both of his. "I give my word I will never cause your tears, and when they do fall I will be by your side to wipe them away and erase all your sorrows!"

"Every sorrow?"

"With all my strength! For you…" with blazing regard he fixed his eyes on her as he searched for words, his expression so fervent and intense she felt exposed, stripped for all but her passions.

"…a _goddess_ among mortals," he at last decided, "I would do anything! Anything, so long as you bless me with your acknowledgement I will fight, worship and serve until my last breath!"

Juliet was starting to feel light-headed, and realised she had held _her_ breath during his entire declaration. She swiftly drew in air, sure to fill her lungs before falling down, and gulped.

Although it sounded like he had much more to say he still paused, falling perfectly silent as he brushed a stray lock behind her ear. A sudden uncertainty had appeared on his look.

"I truly am sorry for lying," he said quietly. "It was a compromising situation. And I was worried for what you might think of me and my background…"

She shook her head.

"Names do not concern me. They do my father and my kin, but not me," she ensured him, and herself. "I understand and am not mad. However," she added after a moment's thought, "next time you might want to send a more agreeable emissary."

He chuckled and awkwardly rubbed his neck before nodding understandingly.

"Yes… Mercutio can be… _difficult_, so to speak, but first impressions aside he is very amiable. I'm sure you will like him."

Juliet nodded slowly, still unconvinced. All things considered she wasn't certain she _wanted_ to either get to know or to like him. In fact, she would prefer if they left the subject and regretted having brought it up to begin with.

"But enough of that," she said airily. The uncertainty was gone from his features and replaced with another thing that now mingled with the gold as he silently, deeply, watched her. There was something with his eyes, with that rich smooth colour. It entrapped her. All she could do was stare into them. In the corner of her eye she noticed him reaching for her and she felt his hand carefully caress her cheek. She felt an abrupt need to break the silence, but she couldn't, or maybe simply didn't actually want to. Then he leaned in.

It was very gradual. She had more than enough time to turn away, tell him no, do anything to stop him if she wanted to. But she didn't. Instead she stood her ground and when he was barely an inch away she closed her eyes. The warmth of his breath softly hit her face, and then she felt his lips touch upon hers, gently brushing past…

"_Juliet!_"

The call made them both flinch in surprise. Face burning, body quivering, Juliet looked towards the murky hallway.

"That is my nurse. I must leave," she whispered, to which he nodded, his cheeks also glowing red.

"_Juuuuliet! Where are you?_"

"I-I am out here!" she answered, thanking the heavens her voice wasn't shaking too. "Just give me a minute!" She turned back to Romeo, who had begun to climb over the railing again.

"We will see each other again, right?" she quickly asked, only a little bit annoyed with herself for sounding so desperate.

With a firm grip on the stone as he lowered himself down to the trellis he looked up at her with a half-smile.

"Of course! Tomorrow?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Same time. I'll be waiting!"

"And I won't be late."

Swiftly he let go as he started climbing downwards. While incessantly sparing glances to the sides she followed his movements all the way to the ground. Had it taken such a long time for him to climb the first time? Maybe it was easier going up than going down. With shuddering hands she pulled the shawl tighter around her frame as he finally landed on solid ground once again.

By the dim light from further into the mansion she could make out his form retreating and just as she heard Angelica's footsteps closing in from behind he vanished into the darkness.

"What are you doing out here? And dressed like this? You'll catch a cold, you silly!"

Angelica chuckled as she wrapped her own shawl around Juliet and started rubbing her arms for warmth, and Juliet finally looked away from the garden to meet her nurse's eyes. When did the wind become so chilly? She did not recall her teeth chattering like this when he was still with her.

"And your hands – like icicles," Angelica continued, somehow succeeding to concurrently sound amused, annoyed and caring in the way only adults could. Grasping Juliet's hands she brought them to her mouth and slowly but surely let her exhalation spread over and thaw them, whilst sending her a curious glance and enquiring smile.

"Keeping secrets from me, are you?" she wondered, causing the girl to start, eyes wide with alarm and mouth gaping with guilt.

"N-no," she tried to deceive, but even she could tell from her tone of voice it was a falsehood.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"I was…" Juliet hesitated, averting her gaze to the orchard again. "Looking. At the garden."

Angelica raised one brow and pressed her lips together in obvious scepticism.

"And, I was waiting," she admitted.

"Waiting_?_ For whom?!"

"For… well, for him."

"Him," Angelica echoed vacuously. Juliet's cheeks grew hotter again, she stared at the ground and started to fidget.

"You know! _Him._"

"Oh… Oh!" the older woman suddenly exclaimed. Quickly covering her mouth with her hand for the unexpected outburst, although the risk of anybody hearing them was exceptionally small, before grabbing Juliet's shoulders and bringing her closer in a rapturous embrace.

"The charming Mercutio, was it?" she spoke lowly, suppressing her laughter, and with their foreheads pressed together. "You little minx, next time you'll have to tell me!"

"No, no; not Mercutio, " Juliet corrected a now confusedly looking Angelica with a giggle. "It's Romeo."

"Wha… how many men are you entertaining?"

Juliet, trapped in a blissful state she with increasing assertiveness suspected to be love, in lengthy detail recounted the day's events with eager words as her nurse attentively listened, even whilst leading her into the warmth of her bedroom, meticulously brushing through her wavy locks and fetching her nightgown. Not until Juliet was finished and among her covers did she spoke up as she sat down by the edge of the bed.

"Menfolk – always so complicated," she bemoaned. "Did you say you're going to meet tomorrow evening again?"

Juliet nodded with a wistful sigh.

"Yes," she said, enamoured by the thought. "He will come to the balcony again and we will… talk until morning. Unless you feel for interrupting us again of course."

"I wouldn't dream of it – but fate might. What of your father's dinner?"

Waking from her reverie she sat erect, blinking in bemusement, at first not understanding at all. Then she recollected father's words from the eve before about the Prince and other important nobles, of mother's delight and Tybalt's hard-set muteness.

"Oh no!" she hissed under her breath. "I had completely forgotten! Then we cannot meet… what shall we do?"

With a cunning smile that could easily both appease all qualms and set them ablaze Angelica leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Juliet's brow, then gently shoved her into the cushions and tucked her in.

"_You_ will sleep," she stated plainly. As Juliet took a breath to protest her sentence was impeded before it could be formed by Angelica's finger across her lips.

"And _I_," she continued, voice much too innocent to be paired with that sly gleam in her deep grey eyes, "will pay a visit to your handsome Montague, first thing in the morning…"

* * *

**Whew, that's a long one! The chapters are just growing and growing. To think I was actually planning on having chapter 4 and 5 be one and the same. Yeah right. Owl is clearly not very adept at predicting how lengthy she'll be. Oh well.**

**Ack! I just noticed it's been a month between the last chapter and this one! So sorry about that. Not sure I can promise the next one coming out very soon either... I'm in a slope :(**


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